


War Records

by VetnanGal13



Series: War and Conquest [2]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Romance, Violence, War and Conquest Expanded Universe, and happy things, and sadness, but there's also gonna be funny things, get ready for heartbreak, the discord don't call this the angst au for nothin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:07:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26092360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VetnanGal13/pseuds/VetnanGal13
Summary: A collection of one shots set in the War and Conquest Universe.  Co-written with monofpoke4life.tumblr.com
Relationships: Dib & Zim (Invader Zim), Gaz & Zim (Invader Zim), Gaz/Zim (Invader Zim)
Series: War and Conquest [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894456
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Bad End

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot was written by Ginger, and has graphic depictions of violence, blood, and character death. Read at your own risk. I do not own Invader Zim.

"Shut up. You're lying." Gaz laughs as she leans back against the log at the campsite, her face illuminated only by the dying fire and a sky full of stars. She sits in a cross legged position, wearing loose shorts and an old t-shirt that she wears to bed.

"I am not! Irk does have this.... fly horse you speak of." Zim pulls a leg up to rest his arm on as he tosses another small log into the fire. Gaz shoots him a look and playfully nudges his arm. 

"No you don't. Look me in the eyes with a straight face and tell me that again." Zim turns, with a deadly serious look on his face. 

"Irk has..." And as soon as he starts speaking a large smile cracks on his face. He turns away quickly in an attempt to hide it as Gaz bursts out laughing. 

"Ha! Liar! I knew that was too good to be true. Come on, I know it's hard for you, but tell me something serious about Irk." Gaz says, lowering her voice in an almost pleading manner. 

"Okay..." Zim turns his face to the sky, reclining against the log. "Irk has uh, three... moon, that's the word, and one of the three circle the big one." He gestures with his hands as he speaks, trying to fill in the gaps of his poor languages skills for Gaz. 

"What are they called?" 

"Iʻaímú, Aor, and-" He pauses, his antennae snap up and towards the left side of his body.

Gaz leans forward, squinting into the darkness. 

"What is it?" She whispers. As soon as she speaks Zim's hand shoots out and covers her mouth. Gaz's immediate reaction is to bite his hand in annoyance, but the worried look Zim has stops her. She needs to be silent. She nods her understanding and the hand gently pulls back, as Zim reaches into his pak to grab his gun. 

They sit, in silence, waiting. Gaz strains as hard as she can to hear something, anything, but there's nothing. Snap. Crack. Rustle. Normally these noises mean nothing in the middle of the woods, but Zim and Gaz recognize the danger. The slow, carefulness of the footsteps. A person, multiple people, are approaching. Zim carefully stands up, gesturing towards Gaz to stay down, but of course that doesn't work. She stands up with Zim, and prepares for whatever's coming.

Slowly, the first of the figures steps out of the darkness. It's short, and the metal box and tubes on it's chest glint from the fire. Flames reflect in the small Irken gun it's holding, and Zim recognizes what they are all too easily. Irken elite. And if there's one, there's bound to be more. Not willing to waste a second more, Zim lifts his gun and fires, hitting the elite square in the head. 

In the split second afterwards, dozens more elite burst from the treeline with guns and spears ready for the fight. Gaz's hands clench into fists as she ready's herself for a fight she is certain she is outnumbered in. She presses her back against Zim's comforted by the small amount of safety knowing she won't have to worry about her blind spots. In one swift motion she leans down and grabs one of the spare logs, and hurls it at an elite charging at her. The log hits the elite in the skull with a sickening crunch, dark green blood flowing from the new cut on his skull. But even as he goes down, Gaz knows there are more to come.

Zim fires and fires, feeling like he's hitting all of his targets, but that they just keep coming in a never ending flow of his worst nightmare. It's like the whole armada was sent, and he knows he will never win. A piercing pain enters his right thigh, and a pak leg shoots out to support him as his leg buckles beneath him. He can feel the warm blood trickle down his leg, the fabric of his sweatpants burning against the injury in his thigh. He grits his teeth and continues to fire, careful to only execute minimal evasive techniques, knowing Gaz is right behind him. That one wrong move could be a laser blast into her body. The campsite is littered with weapons and bodies of Irken elites, the smoke from the burning tissue in their skulls rising into the air with the smoke from the campfire. 

"Ah!" Zim shouts, another pain in his shoulder, as a laser blasts through, ripping his shoulder apart as it does. His left arm goes numb, and he quickly grabs his gun from his useless left hand and continues to fight. Continues to fire. For Gaz.

Gaz. Gaz was pressing up against him a minute ago, wasn't she? Zim's blood turns cold, and as he takes the step to turn, a shock runs through his whole body. He falls, limp, to the ground, his gun skidding into the flames of the campfire. The forest floor is wet, probably with his blood, and he struggles to see. Lying on his left side, and oh his shoulder burns and he can't hear Gaz fighting where is she. Footsteps approach, and the cold barrel of pistol presses against his skull.

Zim struggles to clear his mind, what happened. He opens his eyes, and tries to focus on what's in front of him. His vision is so blurry, the orange dancing of the fire causes him to wince. The Irken standing above him is saying something, but Zim's not listening. He can't listen. The voice is muddled, and hard to make out.

"Probably because of the electric shock delivered to your pak." The clear part of his brain says. 

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" The irken shouts, digging his gun harder into the side of Zim's head, but he can't respond, because his vision has cleared. 

Inches from his face, is Gaz's face. Her eyes are open, looking right into his and yet staring past into nothingness. Blood seeps from her mouth and onto the forest floor, and Zim realizes with horror that it is not his blood that has wet the ground he helplessly lies on. Her face is paler than she normally is, her long hair drenched in places from the dark red blood seeping from the laserhole in her head. The fire dances in the pool that surrounds them, and Zim gasps for air as he reaches forward, desperately trying to touch her face. The irken behind him kicks him sharply in his back. Zim lurches over, lying on his stomach, and he can't breathe. He’s face first in the thick, dark blood, and he's inhaling it, drowning in it... it's like he's in a sea of blood. He struggles to lift himself with his right hand, slipping in the slick mud of the forest floor, and distantly he can hear the charging of a laser rifle. He turns his head, seeing Gaz's lifeless face. 

"Zim." Her disembodied voice echoes all around him, and the blood is flowing from her mouth, her eyes are open, and he can't breathe and the gun pressed against his head is charging and-

"Zim! Zim wake up!" His eyes snap open and he shoots upwards. He takes note of his surroundings, Gaz is sitting to his left, Gir is sitting on his leg, and Dib's horrified face peers in from outside the tent door where he's kneeling. He gasps for air, feeling like he can't get enough as his brain catches up with his eyes. He looks to Gaz, her face mercifully clear of blood, and he realizes he's crying.

"What-" He whispers, raising a shaking hand to wipe the tears from his face. He can't even focus enough to be angry that Dib is seeing this.

"You were having a nightmare, Zim. Oh my god, are you okay?" Gaz whispers. He nods, and tries to speak, finding his voice hoarse. 

"A nightmare? Are you okay?" He gasps. She nods. 

"Yeah, I'm fine Zim. Do you want to talk about it?" He glances at Dib, who swallows guiltily and avoids eye contact. 

"You were screaming a lot..." She mumbles. 

"No... It's okay." Zim says. "I'm okay."


	2. How To

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Oneshot was written by Mon!! Enjoy!!

Zim glared as he looked at his reflection from within Gaz’s compact mirror. His frown deepened as he turned his head from side-to-side, trying to view himself from all angles. He may be Irken, but it didn’t take a human or a genius to see the pitiful job he’d done at applying his makeup. The application was thin and streaky, allowing various shades of green to peak through. A stark contrast against the human-flesh-colored found-a-shun, as Gaz called it. Even with their limited supplies, Gaz had managed to do a significantly better job, the day before, than the one he currently finished. She made it look so easy, and despite knowing he wouldn’t be great at it on his first try; the sad excuse for an outcome left him disheartened. 

With a growl, Zim snapped the mirror closed with one hand, before dropping it, and rummaging in Gaz’s purse for a makeup wipe. He grumbled under his breath in Irken as he wiped. Not even the calming sound of the wind blowing through the lush foliage, and against their cheap tent could do anything to set his nerves at ease. This wasn’t fair! Irken Emergency Camouflage paints were way easier to handle! It was just matching plants, dirt, and shadows! It shouldn’t be nearly as hard! If only he knew more about human cultures and customs. Maybe then he would discover a technique to make it easier, or even just a picture of what to aim for! With a huff, he indignantly flopped onto the side of his sleeping bag. 

It wasn’t like Gaz was around that early morning to tell or show him. She’d caught a ride to a store with the friendly family from the campsite over. Sure, it was risky to leave her vulnerable by being dependent on them for a ride, especially alone with them, but they needed to limit the use of their stolen car. Didn't want the army finding them after just getting there. Sure the makeup was good for fooling the unobservant, but it was only a matter of time before someone caught on; thus, why he was left behind like the car. If only there was another human nearby.

“CAN I EAT THESE PEANUTS,” Gir shrieked from beyond the tent flaps. But Zim heeded it no mind, having grown numb to broken robot’s antics. If only Gaz hadn’t left so early.

“Peanuts? We don’t have-No! Those aren’t peanuts! Those are spare batteries for our flashlights,” came the annoying squawks of the male voice Zim was regretfully becoming familiar with. Zim grit his teeth, and flung a pillow over his head to escape the piercing sounds invading his sensitive antennae. If only he had a device that contained the enter-net, as Gaz called it. If he had something that could access that, he could easily look up a tutorial of some sort. There was an archive of a variety of visual aids that Gaz had shown him for different recipes. She mentioned using it once when her sink broke, so certainly there must be some on painting one’s face! He just needed to find one! But where?!

“Hey! Let go of my phone! It’s not a toy!”

“But I watch the bouncing chest plates show on there!”

“The bouncing what?!”

“I wanna watch them now!” Zim peeked his head out from under the pillow.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” Zim’s antennae twitched around atop his head like satellites. 

“I wanna watch the monkey,” Gir squealed, and Zim scrambled to the tent’s entrance. With a quick unzip and a swift pop of his head out, Zim scanned the campsite for his faithful companion and Gaz’s unfortunate broodmate. 

“Monkey gonna cook with bees this week! I NEED KNOW HOW TO COOK WITH BEES,” Gir shrieked as he tried to yank the thin, rectangular object from the Dib’s hands.

“No way! Last time you got off of youtube, and my phone almost got a virus! The popups were endless,” Dib snarled as he finally managed to twist and yank his phone out of the robot’s inhuman grip. However, as he staggered back, he dropped the phone at his feet, and stumbled further back to avoid the fire. Hastily, he slammed his boot-clad foot onto the phone, as Gir went to swipe for it again, wincing as he hoped the screen didn’t crack. Flinging his arm out, he caught the edge of the old, wooden picnic table in order to regain his balance.

Dib momentarily jumped, a bit startled, at the shout of a command that came from the tents.  _ Yeah, take  _ **_that_ ** _ you demented little toaster! Run off and annoy your owner. _ Gir instantly ran off to see their resident alien, and Dib sighed as he bent down to retrieve his burner phone. Standing back up to his full height, Dib brushed the dirt off as he took the time to inspect it. His shoulders relaxed in relief at the still pristine screen. He turned back towards the fire to keep an eye on his pan full of eggs, but yelped at the sudden appearance of Zim behind him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” he cried, right hand placed over his racing heart. “Geez, we need to put a bell on you,” Dib quipped, as he stepped around him to view their breakfast. Zim merely watched with a raised eyebrow and a small huff. Despite not understanding the exact terms, Zim didn’t bother to have Gir translate. He’d been around Dib enough to recognize his tone for making insults and or little snide comments. It was easier to ignore them if he didn’t know their meanings. Even if she wasn’t there, Gaz would have their heads if they fought...again. It was best not to antagonize the human, especially while in the middle of a potentially harmful task. He would just patiently wait for him. After all, an unannoyed Dib was an agreeable one.

Dib grabbed the borrowed oven mitt and spatula, tending to the sizzling pan atop the grill plate, before frowning as he noticed Zim hovering over him. His lengthy, gangly body casting a shadow over him, the pan, and the fire. Luckily, cooking eggs weren’t so complicated and were almost done, or else he’d complain about the Green Giant being in his light. However, the alien didn’t know that.

“Hey, could you back away from me? This is kind of hot,” Dib remarked as he stood up with the searing hot pan, turning around to set it on the tabletop. The green bean gave him space, but still followed his every move.

“Aren’t you supposed to remain in the tent until Gaz gets back to disguise you,” Dib snipped quizzically. So much for hiding his dislike for Gaz’s alien, but it was a fair question. Zim was just in his pajama pants and hoodie. The hood pulled up over and the strings pulled tightly to hide the majority of his green face. However, of course, it did little to hide his large, bright red eyes. Really if he was so concerned about hiding his face, why didn’t he just stay inside the tent?

At the remark, Zim frowned, but said nothing. Dib kept his face neutral, but his ability to get under the alien’s skin delighted him. As would any older brother interacting with any male that obviously fancied his baby sister. Unfortunately, much to his disappointment, the frown didn’t last long, as his eyes and brows narrowed and scrunched pensively. He wanted to say something, but was having second thoughts. However, the determined gleam in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t about to give up due to Dib’s pestering.

With a sigh, Dib took off the oven mitt, and sat down at the picnic table.

“What do you want,” he inquired, snapping Zim out of his thoughts, and back into the present. 

“You want something. Don’t you? You wouldn’t be hovering over me worse than a helicopter parent if you weren’t.”

“A what parent?”

“Nevermind. Look, what do you want?”

Zim pursed his lips for a moment, before he finally admitted, “I...need help. Am more good face artist.”

Dib looked back at him with wide, curious eyes and quizzically raised brows. Out of all of the things Zim could’ve asked. He wanted to...what exactly?

“Am good face art-you want to do better at makeup,” Dib asked, figuring out the meaning and correcting himself at the last second. At this, Zim nodded eagerly. Clearly happy, and a bit proud, of getting his point across.

“Sorry, buddy. I can’t help you. I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’m not exactly the makeup wearing type,” Dib ran his hand through his hair to help hide the fact that he wanted to smirk at the disappointed and annoyed look that flashed through the alien's eyes. Leaning back to prop himself up by his elbows, Dib off-handedly continued, “Look, can’t you wait until Gaz gets back in like an hour?”

“No. No Gaz,” Came the clipped reply, making Dib raise an eyebrow, as the alien continued, “I learn on own.”

“Then why are you out here annoying me,” Dib snapped back in annoyance with only half the frustration and venom that he felt. Even if he didn’t like the guy for a multitude of reasons, Dib couldn’t blame him for wanting to not be a burden. If he could do it himself, it would save them a lot of hassle. However, it still didn’t change the fact that he knew next to nothing about makeup. Not to mention any skills to make do with what supplies they had. It would be like two blind guys trying to learn to read without brail. It’d be a disaster.

“I no need you! Need your mini-square computer. Watch how-to movie,” Zim growled in frustration. Clearly at his limit.

“Mini-square...how-to movie? Oh you need my phone to watch a tutorial,” Dib exclaimed that last part, feeling a tad ingenious for getting the hang of talking with Zim. However, his mood quickly soured as he glared and murmured, “Great. Another clueless creature wants to use my phone. What? Are you gonna download porn too like your crumby robot?”

It was meant to be rhetorical, and unheard; however, he should’ve known better than to say such things around Zim. Even if it was just in exasperation. Unfortunately though, he thought of this too little too late, as Zim parroted back, “What is...purn?”

“Nope! Stop right there! Don’t ever repeat that word again! Gaz will kill me if you learned that word,” Dib frantically exclaimed, standing up to flail his arms for emphasis. At the, “Gaz will kill me,” part, Zim’s lip twitched upwards, as if to smirk, but he was still too shocked by the outburst to do anything more than agree absentmindedly. Dib’s eyes narrowed at this, as it was clearly something Zim would be keeping in mind for later. 

At the idea of Zim having blackmail material on him, Dib huffed and combed his fingers through his hair in frustration. Great! This was just what he needed! If only he had blackmail of his-

“I can use mini-computer? Copy picture? Yes or no,” Zim spoke again, breaking Dib out of his thoughts. He looked at Zim with a glare, before an idea struck him. A wide, mischievous grin spread across Dib’s face as he remarked, “Ya know what? Sure. Here, I’ll even find you a video.”

With that, Dib whipped out his phone, and began showing Zim how to work it with an unsettling eagerness. Zim could tell that Dib was up to something, but he ignored it for now. Learning was more important, and if he wanted to mess with Zim by making him waste supplies while doing it wrong; then Dib would simply be Gaz’s problem. It was not the first time the Dib-dirt had, “pranked,” him, and like all of the times before, Gaz would certainly make him pay for it. All that mattered now was that he was going to learn.

Once Zim learned all that he could about working the “fone,” and “U-tube,” he went back to the tent to begin learning. As he entered, he frowned at the sight of Gir, trying to eat his own foot like a young smeet. At the entrance of his master, Gir spat out the foot, and immediately sat up.

“Yay! Slumber party,” Gir cried as he sprung himself into Zim’s lap, just as he sat down.

“Not now, Gir. I am busy,” He growled softly in annoyance, as he lifted the robot and gently set him aside. Fascinated by the little things his master pulled out of the bag, Gir’s luminous eyes glimmered, as he reached out to touch, just, one-

“No Gir, I need this. No touch.”

With a brief salute, Gir giggled insanely as Zim pressed play, and tried to focus on the video. He frowned and growled in frustration, as Gir made him miss some of the instructions. However, that’s not all he was missing.

“Grrah! I have nothing! Where am I find primer,” Zim growled and gestured dramatically in frustration, as he listed all of the things he didn't possess.

“Here ya go,” Gir chirped happily, pulling something from out of his head, and placing it in Zim’s right hand.

“Priming brush,”

“Ooo it’s shiny,” Gir giggled as he did the same as before, placing something else in Zim’s left hand.

“Large, soft brush for- Wait,” Zim almost continued listing, until it finally registered what Gir had placed in his hands, and was currently placing in front of Zim. His eyes narrowed at the large bottle of primer, and the domey brush that were each placed within his hands. Leaning forwards to get in Gir’s face, he asked, “What all you have in there?”

Gir took it as a command, as his eyes briefly glowed crimson with a salute, making Zim wince, before squealing as he unceremoniously dumped everything out of his head.

“Gir?! Where you find all of this,” Zim yelled out incredulously as he dug through the insanely large, and expensive looking, pile of makeup supplies.

“They were SITTING,” Gir screeched, with a rapid round of applause. Clearly very proud of himself for being so thoughtful and helpful to his lesi.

“Where,” Zim snarled. Call it a hunch, but something in his squeedilyspooch wasn’t sitting right. 

“On a shelf,” the metal child cried gleefully, as he grabbed his feet and rocked back and forth. 

“Gir! How you buy-” Zim started to ask, but was interrupted, as Gir innocently asked, “Buuuuuy?” Zim frowned and rubbed at his temples. He knew it. There was no way these were legally obtained. He took a moment to breathe deeply, and pondered their options. Gaz would be furious, but it’s not like he could do anything. Not without the proper tools to fix Gir, and besides, she was the one who took Gir to the store with her. It wasn’t his fault this happened. Plus, that store was miles away by now. In a whole other, “state,” as Gaz and Dib called it. There was no way they could return it.

With this thought in mind, Zim sighed as he sat back up, and glanced over the pile of Gir’s pilfered goodies. He took a moment to look at the description below the video, and began sifting through the products he needed. They couldn’t return it, so he might as well use it. Luckily, Gir seemed to have grabbed plenty of things that were listed. He arranged them neatly in a row, in front of him, before propping the phone up against the pillow in front of him, and then pressed play once more.

An hour or so later, when Gaz returned from the store, she frowned before she even set foot in their campsite. Although friendly and helpful, going with their neighbors had been a mistake, as they were obnoxious, careless, and took forever to buy anything! With a huff she adjusted their newly purchased cooler, laden with groceries and ice, further into her arms as she walked back to their campsite. Strange, usually Zim or Gir would be instantly at her heels offering to help, but they were nowhere in sight. In fact, she didn’t hear Gir at all, and a quiet Gir was ten times worse than a quiet toddler.

Instantly this put her on edge as she hefted the cooler onto the picnic table. Letting it loudly fall onto the tabletop, spooking Dib who was washing the skillet after it cooled down from making breakfast. Dib opened his mouth to reprimand her for almost breaking something, but her glare made him fall silent.

“Where’s Zim and Gir,” she snapped impatiently. With how much complaining he’d been doing lately, Gaz wouldn’t put it past him to try and get rid of them while she was gone.

“What do you mean, where are they at? They’re just in the tent,” Dib argued back indignantly, as he set the pan on the table to air dry.

“You and I both know Gir can’t stay quiet for two milliseconds unless he’s in sleep mode, now where are they,” Gaz growled. She wasn’t in the mood for games.

“Last I saw him, he was in the tent with Zim. He’s probably too busy helping him or watching the video to-” Dib retorted, but was interrupted by Gaz as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“What video,” She questioned with narrowed eyes observing his every move, searching for any sign of a lie.

At the thought of the video, Dib tried and failed to cover up his snicker. Gaz slightly relaxed at this, as he made the same face the last few times he pranked Zim. So the good news, he and Gir weren’t in danger. However, as she glared at him with hands on her hips, it didn’t make things better.

“Don’t make me ask again. I swear if you duct taped Gir to a tree again, I’ll-” Gaz didn’t get to finish her threat, as Dib indignantly squawked, “Hey, I did no such thing this time!”

“This time,” Gaz remarked with a huff, before Dib continued, “Oh come on! I actually helped this time! He’s just in the tent watching a tutorial on my phone.”

At this, her eyes narrowed at him in suspicion, as she slowly inquired, “Tutorial for what?”

Dib smirked once more, and opened his mouth, but was interrupted once again by the sound of the tent zipper. Zim was bent over as he climbed out, making it hard to see his face; despite wearing the hood down. From this angle, Gaz could only briefly register that he had makeup on, as she could see glimpses of it between the fibers of his wig. However, as he straightened to his full height, all Gaz could do was gasp and gawk; meanwhile, Dib took one look and nearly keeled over in laughter.

Gaz’s brain momentarily stopped as Zim strode over confidently. Clearly feeling very proud at accomplishing whatever self-assigned goal he set out to do. As he approached, Gir darted out of the tent with his face covered in pink lipstick, that she did not remember buying, squealing something about, “the house!”

Finally, Zim stopped in front of Gaz, as he proudly struck a pose with his hand on his hip as he remarked the new slang he learned.

“Hey sisters.”

And with that, Dib was on the forest floor laughing hysterically like a child. It took all of Gaz’s willpower not to join him, as she stared in amazement at Zim's face. She didn’t know how many times he watched it, let alone where he got the different types of makeup to pull it off, but Zim had a flawless, fully contoured face (including a fully contoured and realistic-from the front- looking nose) that resembled the infamous youtube “beauty guru,” James Charles. Her brother, in all of his immaturity, let the alien watch a freaking James Charles video. Who knew what kind of ridiculous things he “learned about humans,” from there.

Trying to keep her attention away from his, “nose,” or perfectly, thankfully nude, pouty looking lips, Gaz asked, “Zim, you look...you look...human?” Clearly unsure of how to compliment his progress.

Zim puffed out his chest with pride, as he did another dramatic pose, and remarked, “I know.”

At this, Gaz finally couldn’t help but let out a few giggles, before she inquired, “Zim I leave for an hour, and you look like this? How did you learn so quickly?”  _ And how are you better than me? _

“Zim watch how-to video. It not hard with reference. It similar with Irketsi emergency camouflage paint training. Once know how, it not hard,” He explained, and at the, “emergency camouflage paint,” part, Dib guffawed once more.

Zim and Gaz turned to glare at Dib with this, and he quickly remarked an, “Okay Peeta!”

At this, Zim grew quite befuddled, and turned to Gaz, pointing at himself, as he quizzically stated, “But, my name is Zim.” 

At this, both siblings grabbed onto their stomachs as they busted out laughing once more. Zim frowned and growled at this. Obviously a joke was made at his expense, and that he did not understand. If it were just the Dib-dirt, it wouldn’t be so bad, but Gaz was laughing too. He should’ve known not to trust him! 

Zim huffed as he spun on his heels, ready to march back to the tent to hide for the rest of the day. However, a gentle hand grabbed his own, and pulled him closer. Arms wrapped around him in a loose hug as he found Gaz laughing into his chest. With a brief shake of her head, he could see the sincerity in her gaze. One that expressed she was not laughing  _ at  _ him, but at the situation. Also, they gleamed with the promise of explaining it to him later. Unable to stay mad at her for long, Zim sighed, ran his hand through his wig, and smiled down at her. He’d get the hang of this human thing eventually.

With a small shake of her head to dislodge his hand, Gaz glanced up and softly returned the smile. He wasn’t sure if she remembered that she had her arms around him, but he wasn’t going to remind her. He rather liked having her arms around him. It made his chest feel warm and fluttery. They stood there like that, having a nice moment, until a louder-than-necessary wheeze startled them. With that, much to Zim’s annoyance, Gaz dropped her hold and stepped back as they both turned to glare at her brother.

“Seriously, Dib, it’s not that funny,” Gaz quipped back, thinking he was just laughing. But Zim wasn’t clueless. His eyes narrowed as they caught a glimpse of Dib’s own. He’d done it deliberately. As always.

For a moment, Dib took delight in his notoriously annoying laugh to snap their attention away from each other. As an older brother, it was his duty to keep any guy's paws, alien or human, off of his baby sister, and he’d done his job quite successfully; if the deep glare Zim was sending him was anything to go by. He almost felt proud. Almost. As soon as Dib smirked, Zim paused before smirking right back. What was he up to?

“Gaz, what is purn?” At this seemingly innocent question, Dib froze.  _ Oh shit! _

“What is WHAT?! WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT?!?”

Dib could almost hear the self-satisfied glee in Zim’s voice as he instantly sprung to his feet, taking off into the woods as he heard the simple reply of, “The Dib.”

However, he almost missed it at the sound of swift foot-falls sprinting after him. Oh he was dead! He was so  _ dead! _


End file.
